The Keys
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Oneshot. Concerned little brothers are pesky little brothers, as is the case when Dean’s routine injury sparks Sam’s annoying nature and they clash over Dean’s most prized possession…his car. Brotherly banter, some language. R&R.


**Title: The Keys**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Oneshot. Concerned little brothers are pesky little brothers, as is the case when Dean's routine injury sparks Sam's annoying nature and they clash over Dean's most prized possession…his car. Brotherly banter, some language. R&R.**

**Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me: it either belongs to the WB or the CW, I'm still a little in the dark about that one…**

**A/N: Basically, I had some down time at work and I overheard a conversation that had the faint beginnings of this story. So thank you to my dramatic coworkers for your inspiration. There's some cussing in here, but not much else…brotherly banter is my specialty. ) Please please review and tell me how I'm doing with the humor…I heart you guys! Mwah!**

………

"Sam."

"Dean."

_Silence._

"Sam."

"DEAN."

The crickets chirped outside of the motel room.

"Sam, SERIOUSLY!"

"Dean, SERIOUSLY!"

"Sam!"

"Dean!"

"Give me the KEYS!"

"Why?"

Dean sputtered. "What-wha—"

"That's what I thought," Sam sat back, gloating, watching Dean's face magically turn tomato red.

"What makes you think I won't _beat _the goddamn keys out of your pocket?"

Sam ticked off numbers on his hand. "One- you have too many bruised ribs. Two- you know I can beat your ass at this moment in time. Three- it would look really strange for you to have your hands down my pants,"

Dean ground his teeth. _Damn little brothers. Damn them to hell_.

"Since when have slight injuries and fear of defeat ever stopped a Winchester?" Dean's rage simmered. Sam paused in thought, his "gloating" face replaced with a sort of constipated confusion.

"Yeah. Just give me the keys," Dean held out his hand, repulsed by the look on his brother's face. "When you decided all on your own that it's okay to sideswipe a possessed cop car, you shoulda know that you can never drive my car again,"

"Dude! It just needs a paint job! On one side! Only a few scratches—"

"Don't." Dean held up his hand, eyes screwed shut in pain. "My poor baby…"

Recovering quickly, he stood up, eyes flashing.

Sam recoiled in his chair, shrinking back into the overstuffed plush. No matter how injured Dean was, he still managed to strike fear into the heart of his little brother.

Slowly, menacingly, Dean made his way over to his brother and grabbed the sides of the chair, effectively trapping the youngest Winchester.

"Hand 'em over, Francis."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Sam!"

"Dean!"

"Sammy!"

"Dean-o!"

"Give me my fucking car keys!"

"No fucking way!"

"I so do not want to wrestle you for this."

"You'd rather we battle it out with our amazing rhetoric?"

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"No, YOU shut up."

"Why won't you just let me DRIVE for ONE TRIP? JUST for a few days, until your ribs heal!" The exasperation in Sam's voice was evident.

"Because." Was Dean's effusive reply.

"Because why?"

"Because because."

"Because because why?"

"Because!"

"Dean, the doctor said—"

"I need rest? Uh, yeah. Tell me something I didn't know."

"You almost got killed by a possessed police officer in his possessed police cruiser, I think that deserves a little time for recuperation, dude!"

"And?" Dean replied in a bored tone, losing his concentration as his brother babbled on. He stared at his brother, wondering why his head was so tiny and yet his body so long.

"You know you look like a grasshopper?"

"Dean, I'm being serious."

"Dude. Me too."

"You can direct me and boss me around and all from the passenger seat, but you don't get to drive."

"I will kick your elongated ass. It's my car!"

"Go ahead and try, asshole,"

They held a stare for the better part of a minute before Sam's eyes watered.

"Loser," Dean snorted in derision.

"You're the loser."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Smartass."

"Dumbass."

"Fatass."

"Lameass."

"…I got nothing."

"Yeah, me neither."

The room was silent once again as the brothers contemplated.

" 'Pansy' doesn't really fit in there, does it," Dean asked distantly. " 'Pansyass' kind of loses the flow…"

"Yeah."

"Sam. I'm gonna count to ten."

"Really? Do you want a gold star, or just an extra ten minutes on the playground for that?"

Dean ignored his little brother. "IF you don't put my keys in my hand by the time I'm done, I pounce."

"Pervert."

"Not like that. Keep those dirty thoughts in your own head."

"Yeah, right. No wonder you've never kept a girlfriend for longer than a few weeks…"

"One."

"I could use some food right now, Dean."

"Two."

"Is there a Taco Bell anywhere around here?"

"Three."

Sam made as if to stand. "I'm hungry."

"Fucking hell! Sit down, you moron. You are NOT as smart as you think you are." Dean growled, pushing Sam back into the chair. He stuck his face in front of his brother's.

"I want my keys."

"Yo quiero Taco Bell."

"What?"

"You never heard that?"

"No."

"I said, 'I want Taco Bell'. In Spanish. Get it? 'Cuz you said—"

"Yeah, yeah, that was so great, I still want my keys." Dean rolled his eyes back in his head. _What I wouldn't _give _for some good vodka right now._

"I still want Taco Bell. And I know you won't try to grab the keys, because that would severely hurt your ribs, wouldn't it?"

Sam smirked. Dean glared.

"I'm gonna hotwire the car, Sammy, last warning."

"Go ahead."

"I'm leaving without you."

"You've done it before."

Silence.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Shut up!"

"Fuck you."

"Sick, Sammy, don't say that. I know you want me, but incest isn't really my thing." Dean grinned, suddenly moving away from his brother. He gingerly lowered himself onto the nearest bed, wincing in pain.

"You okay?" Sam asked, trying not to show his concern.

"Fine and dandy."

"Good."

"Good."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You're not driving."

"Then we're not leaving."

"Fine. We can book another couple of nights here."

"Good. And from now on, it's a pint of blood for every scratch you put on my car."

"Gross. But I thought you wouldn't ever let me drive again."

"I'm thinking ahead, Sammy boy. Shut up."

"That made no sense. But anyway, ew."

"Yeah, the blood thing's pretty vampy, ain't it?"

"Shut up."

"GOD DAMN IT! YOU SHUT UP!"

"No, YOU SHUT UP!"

"No, YOU shut up!"

Silence. Then…

"Shut up."

**-The End-**

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